“I believe Tillie targeted her because you thwarted her desire to take you out of the game and she was annoyed about that. Mother was an easy target because she’s not accustomed to running. I agree, though—something needs to be done.”
Walter lifted his head and sent a discreet nod to August, who was on the other team and who happened to be holding the ball. He then waited until August threw the ball his way. Snatching it out of the air, Walter was in motion a second later, running directly for Russell and showing that man no mercy as he took aim and let the ball fly. Thankfully, it hit its target and Russell was out of the game.
Priscilla was racing Walter’s way a second later, leaping into his arms and placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “You did it, Papa. You did it! You got rid of the mean man.”
“And avenged Grandmother,” Oscar said, dashing past Walter, but not before he sent him a grin.
“I believe you’ve just become a certified hero in the eyes of your children,” Gwendolyn said as he set Priscilla on her feet.
“I merely took care of Russell.”
“But in their eyes, you let Russell know that no one can tangle with your family. That’s exactly why you’ve been elevated to the rank of hero—no easy feat. I would encourage you to revel in the moment, because being children, their opinion will change the next time you lay down the law about some misdeed they’re certain to believe wasn’t a misdeed at all.”
Thirty-Two
A most curious feeling flowed through Walter when Gwendolyn gave his arm a pat, then flashed him a grin that left him forgetting where he was for a moment, until someone called “Annie Over” and he was recalled to the idea he was in the middle of a game.
It turned into a battle of epic proportions, one his side eventually lost because Tillie, apparently wanting to avenge Russell’s removal from the game, turned more competitive than ever, knocking her teammates out of the way to catch the ball each time it sailed over the hedge—and promptly using it to take out her competition.
After shaking hands, Walter’s guests wandered back into the house, the children returning to the activities Gwendolyn had planned for them, the next one being painting seashells. After providing the many governesses in attendance aprons for their miniature guests to wear while painting, Gwendolyn then made certain the children were offered beverages and fresh fruit before she left his mother-in-law in charge.
As the sound of the orchestra preparing for the next dance rang out, Walter and Gwendolyn moved toward the ballroom,Gwendolyn insisting she needed to make certain Walter’s next dance partner was waiting for him—a lady he wasn’t hesitant to join because she had scheduled him to dance a second dance with Adelaide—done so, at least according to her, because she didn’t want her friend lingering on the sidelines for most of the night. They quickly located Adelaide sitting beside her mother, who for some reason was looking resigned.
“I’m afraid Adelaide won’t be able to dance anymore this evening,” Phyllis began once Walter stopped in front of them. “She broke the heel of another shoe, and not during the game, which would have been expected.”
Adelaide grinned. “I’ve never been one to do the expected, but before either of you ask, I broke it while I was walking across the lawn. One minute I was strolling along—perhaps even gracefully, but I can’t be certain about that—and the next I was stumbling down that incline that leads to the cliffs. If it wasn’t for Gideon Abbott, I might have plummeted off the cliff, but because of his timely assistance once again, I merely suffered a broken heel.”
“Gideon seems to make himself readily available whenever you’re near an incline,” Gwendolyn said.
“He does have an uncanny knack for realizing when I’m about to plummet to my death or burst into flames,” Adelaide agreed before she leveled a stern look on Gwendolyn. “But don’t for a second get that matchmaker mind of yours traveling in the direction I know it longs to travel. Gideon, again, has made it known he’s not in the market for a wife, and I’m hardly a lady who would be well suited for a gentleman of the world, something Gideon most certainly is.”
She switched her attention to Walter. “With that now firmly out of the way, I’m afraid I’ll have to renege on our scheduled dance. I didn’t think to bring a spare pair of shoes with me.”
Gwendolyn stood on tiptoes and perused the ballroom for a moment. “You should ask Miss Darcy Mortman to join youfor the waltz. I haven’t learned much about her, but she seems lovely, and rumor has it she’s guaranteed to take the New York Season by storm. She’s standing next to Mrs. Parker, who given the smile on her face is considering sponsoring her.”
“Then Walter shouldn’t interrupt them,” Phyllis said, before settling a smile on him. “You should dance with Gwendolyn instead.”
He didn’t hesitate to return the smile. “An excellent idea, Mrs. Duveen.”
Gwendolyn’s nose wrinkled. “It’ll hardly be productive for you to dance with me. I’m your matchmaker. Miss Mortman might turn out to be the lady you find more than pleasant this Season.”
“That’s some wishful thinking on your part,” Walter said. “Besides, I’d much rather enjoy the next dance by not having to worry about engaging in idle chitchat with a lady I don’t know.”
“And you, Gwendolyn,” Phyllis began before Gwendolyn could voice the protest her expression clearly suggested she wanted to voice, “deserve a respite from managing the events of this ball. Consider it a victory lap for helping Ethel host one of the most original events Newport has seen this Season. And that’s saying something, considering Mamie Fish hosted a ball for dogs.”
To Walter’s surprise, after shooting Phyllis a look that held a trace of resignation in it—as if she were quite used to dealing with older ladies determined to have their way and knew which battles to pick and which to abandon—Gwendolyn accepted his arm. A moment later, they were standing in the middle of the ballroom floor, earning more than a few raised eyebrows, and a smile from his mother, which he didn’t know how to interpret. Before he could consider that further though, the first note of a waltz rang out, and he and Gwendolyn were off.
He should have known she’d be more than proficient with the steps.
“Had a few dance instructors along the way?” he asked, moving across the floor with her in perfect synchrony.
“Since you were privy to Grandmother Brinley’s and my conversation, and I also know Catriona has probably taken the liberty of divulging far too much about me, you’re clearly well aware of my background and my circumstances, which are not those of a woman who has to earn a living. So I’m sure you’re not actually taken aback to learn I know how to dance,” Gwendolyn returned, effortlessly following his lead. “My mother was diligent in making sure her children were provided lessons in decorum, dance instruction, riding lessons, and the list goes on and on. I’ve always believed her diligence was because she held out hope Father’s parents would someday come to their senses and, if they did, would never be able to find their grandchildren lacking in matters of proper decorum.”
Gwendolyn followed his turn and smiled. “But enough about me. Did you see the wonderful job Samuel did pulling that rabbit out of the hat when the magician asked him to assist with his act? I was so proud of him. He may very well have a future as a magician.”
“A lofty goal indeed,” Walter said with a grin, spending the remainder of the waltz discussing the children, enjoying the opportunity to share the things he was learning about them and their many quirks with someone who genuinely cared about them.
Oscar, he’d recently discovered, was far too somber at times and had a way of speaking that made one forget he was only nine years old. He’d yet to explain how he’d come to fail his classes, but one morning at breakfast he’d told Walter he would need to hire on a tutor in the fall, because he wouldn’t be going back to his boarding school.
